


With french fries, please.

by Kyirah



Series: 30 days in Dick Grayson hell [30]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: - maybe?, Dick is a little tipsy, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyirah/pseuds/Kyirah
Summary: “You don’t need to tell me— I’ve memorized your order by now” - Dick/Jason





	

"Ugh, You are both _insufferable._ " Damian bit out, barely managing actual words and not growls, and stomped ahead of them into the ice-cream store.

Dick giggled, leaning against Jason's side to whisper in his ear.

"Do you think he'll end up killing us?"

"Depends." He answered, lightly squeezing Dickie's hip. "Where the dogs go if we die?" Dick giggled even more.

"Steph. She and Cass have a big enough house to care for them."

"Then he won't kill us. Not until he changes your will."

Dick giggles again and disentangled himself, taking Jason's hand and tugging it forward.

As they enter the store Jason thought that, maybe, he should be jealous. Today was Dick's birthday, and he decided to celebrate it by drinking one bottle of wine for breakfast and calling Damian until the younger Wayne resigned himself to " _a day-out with his big bro, please Dami it's my birthday!_ ". Dick was still giddy and tipsy, and in normal circumstances, Jason would take the opportunity to keep him in bed and shower him in as much affection as he could without crossing his personal lines. Said lines used to double in holidays and special occasions, so the fact that Dick decided to be out with the brat should have tipped him off.

But, as he looked at Dick gracelessly draping himself all over Damian and whining for the poor kid to _just chose one, Dami, it isn't hard!_  He couldn't bring himself to any bad feelings. Dick obviously loved Damian, sometimes more as a son than as a brother, and by the way Damian turned scarlet and grumped in Arabic, he sometimes felt the same way.

Once Damian had successfully chosen his lactose-free chocolate, strawberry and vanilla cone and grumpily walked to the bathroom to escape Dick's clinginess Jason seated beside him in the booth and draped an arm over Dickie's shoulder and ignored the warm feeling at his belly when Dick leaned into him.

"Hmmm... Jay, can you get our order?" He hummed, looking at the menu like it had somehow changed since they came here last week. Jason grunted in agreement. "Okay, Dami wants a lactose-free - no cow milk for him after he adopted batcow - chocolate, strawberry and vanilla cone. Which is the blandest ice-cream ever, but whatever makes the kid tick." He murmured the last part. "And for me..."

“You don’t need to tell me— I’ve memorized your order by now, Boy Wonder.” Jason rolled his eyes, resting his cheek on Dick's hair. He grumbled. "Caramel, Cotton Candy, Peanut Butter 'n Chocolate and Cookies 'n Cream. With Chocolate chips topping. And french fries because you are _disgusting_." Jason recited. Below him Dick gasped, as if he'd been insulted.

"I'll have you know that french fries with ice-cream is _the best_ _food_ and nothing you say will convince me otherwise." He said, puffing up as an enraged bird. Jason smirked and pointed at Damian, who was standing a few meter away, deciding if he should just run away. Dick turned to his new prey, speech already on the tip of his tongue.

As Jason sauntered in the direction of the cashier he smirked at the look of total betrayal on Damian's face as Dick recited the wonder of french-fries-and-ice-cream. Jason laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GTYWLPpbhMN6mURMdskqUPS78A-QqRSOS7inM2J7flY/edit?usp=sharing) a link to my cannon universe. Not necessary to read but useful, since I butcher the cannon at every opportunity I get.


End file.
